Double-Cross
by Thor
Summary: The first story in my Detroit tales. A dark plot is hatched, and lives are twisted by the machinations of a ancient elder.


Greetings and salutations. I am Thor, this is my story. This is my first work of fiction, so please be lenient in judging my skills. Since you are here and wish to read it I would like to thank you. Anything I did terribly wrong, or holes in the story and plot are to be blamed on inexperience and evil demons of writing. (But if you loved it worship me, I did it all, worship me!!!) As a matter of warning this story contains violence, and adult language (viewer discretion is advised) I have based my works in the WOrld of Darkness and White Wolf product lines, I do not own them, nor do I wish to challenge White WOlf's rights. I am making no money, send no large thugs to beat my head in. Any questions, comments, rants, or ideas may be sent to me at arcanloth@hotmail .com. I do not read my mail every day, but I do always respond. Now that I am already starting to lose your attention, may I present the reason you are here (insert drumroll) read on, and enjoy.

Double-cross: A Tale of Detroit 

"It has begun,"   
The words were spoken by a shadowy figure seated in an ornate wooden chair. A long black silk robe draped around him as he sat gazing through a window that looked out upon the murky city of Detroit. His pale white lips formed into a small smile, soon he would have another favor, soon he would be even more powerful. He didn't actually wish to control this city, but it just wouldn't do if his lady arrived and found him incapable of offering her more than simply poetry. Now poetry and a city, Ah, that is a sweet drink indeed. He watched as the first drops of rain began to beat against his window, dripping down like tears upon a crystal face. He paused and repeated the words to himself. He glanced at a nearby grandfather clock. He had time to start on the first few stanza's of a poem before his attention would be needed for the plan. He silently headed towards his workroom.  
Reginald ran his hands through his finely groomed brown hair as he glanced around the dark parking garage. As a member of Clan Ventrue Reginald felt far more at home holding meetings in boardrooms, rather then dumps like this. Stillif the news was all it was rumored to be. Reginald shifted his grip on the briefcase full of money he held and glanced out to the rain drenched streets. Damn! It was really starting to pour. He turned back around just in time to see a figure blend out of the shadows. Howard, at last. Reginald quickly scanned the insufferable Caitiff in order to make sure he wasn't hiding any weapons, not that Reginald was particularly concerned about what a thin-blood could do to himbut it never hurt to be sure.   
"Hey Reggie, what's the good word?" said Howard.   
Reginald scowled at the Caitiff. "The good word left twenty minutes ago, you're late!"   
"Geez, sorry, but for some crazy reason the Sabbat don't like to be rushed."   
The off-hand reference to the dreaded Sabbat rocked Reginald on his heels and reminded him why he was here.   
"I have the money, do you have the information we spoke of," he asked.   
"No worries Reggie, I got it all here," Howard pulled a sheaf of papers out from inside his torn jacket, "And believe you me, it's well worth the price."   
Reginald stalked closer to the shorter Caitiff and glared down at him. "It had better be, for your sake." He held out the brief case and his free hand. Howard dropped the papers into the open hand while also snatching up the case. Both quickly opened their respective package to make sure all was in order. It was. Reginald folded the papers neatly and placed them in his Armani coat, Howard was busy trying to conceal the case under his jacket. Reginald turned away and walked calmly back to his waiting Bentley, he smiled, it seemed that tonight was going to go well after all. Howard watched Reginald leave, he then turned and rushed back to the limo waiting for him in a nearby alley. He slide his dirty wet body in, hardly caring what it might do to the immaculate leather.   
"Let's go toots," He proudly ordered as the driver pulled out into the pouring rain. 

Three hours earlier 

Michael Cooler paced back and forth in his office tugging at the tie around his neck, he had foregone his usual biker garb in order to make a good impression upon the other Sabbat leadership and now the bastards were apparently going to be late! His green eyes flashed to the rooms only other occupant, an elderly man twirling his white mustache and apparently unconcerned of the lateness of the others.   
"Where the fuck are they!" demanded Cooler, "I told them the meeting was to start on time damnit!"   
"Relax," advised Charles Payne, bishop of Windsor, "They are appearing late exactly because you advised them to be on time," He paused as the sound of screeching tires floated up into the office, "see? Here they are now."   
A few moments later the doors were slammed open as Cal Jericho stormed into the room, Cooler sighed in annoyance. "Hey Cooler, how's it going," asked Jericho, "Must be pretty busy, what with you not having time to get one fucking messenger to swing by and tell me about this little raid you have planned!"   
As he spoke the templar stormed towards Cooler until he stopped inches from his face, Cooler saw his own frightened reflection in the templar's sunglasses and quickly regained his composure.   
"Why Jericho, I was unaware I was obligated to tell you anything," Cooler calmly stated, "After all templars usually are merely bodyguards to bishops and arch-bishops," He emphasized the word and Jericho, reminded of his unstable position in Detroit, slowly drew back.   
He walked over to the far end of the table and took the other head chair, plopping his boots soundly upon the ancient oak table and spraying mud upon it. "Just try to keep me better informed in the future," the templar smirked.   
Cooler clenched his teeth in frustration, but forced himself to sit calmly down at the other end of the table. Even as he did so there was a blare of a trumpet as Knight Bishop St. Johns and six of his "knights" paraded into the chamber. The Lasombra "bishop" bowed slightly to Cooler, and then promptly went and sat at Jericho's end of the table. Cooler coldly noted how the templar had set it up so as to make the other leaders choose between him and the arch-bishop. Cooler made a mental note that St. Johns would regret his choice. Within the next few minutes the other Sabbat leaders arrived, the observer from Lansing, Bishop Deanna, the crazed monster child Justin the Saint, the Ventrue bishop Jane Doe, and a small collection of pack ducti. When it was all said and done most of the upper echelon leaders sat near Cooler, more of the ducti sat with Jericho. The last to arrive was Anne Arbor, the Black Hand commander for Detroit. She just seemed to appear standing in one of the shadowy back corners, and didn't bother to take a seat.   
"Anne! Why don't you come sit here," shouted St. Johns as he forced one of his knights out of the seat to his right, he beamed his ingratiating smile up at her.   
"Why don't she come sit here," Hissed a heavily pierced Tzimisce as he pointed at his own lap. One of his packmates slammed her knife down in between his legs.   
"Show some fucking respect Rip!" She growled.   
He laughed and apologized for making her jealous. Meanwhile a brief scuffle erupted between a Ventrue, and Lasombra pair of ducti. The fight ended with the Lasombra pulling a knife from his chest, while the Ventrue tried to fix his broken arm. Justin stood up on his chair and began to give an impassioned speech on why Sabbat shouldn't fight amongst themselves. His collection of guards and sychphants cheered at all the right times, everyone else ignored him. Justin didn't seem to notice either reaction. Jericho started to exchange war stories with a few of the ducti near him, making sure to proudly mention his own accomplishments. Finally Cooler figured most of the jockeying had been finished and raised his hands for silence. His end of the table replied instantly, though the reaction came slower the further down the table one went. It eventually took a whack to the head with a bat to quiet the last talker.   
"It is good to see we are ready to begin to map out the strategy for this raid" Cooler began.   
"Why bother!" shouted Jericho, "I say we just roll into town and toast any Camarilla we see, we could control the city by the end of the night!" His outburst was met with supporting cheers from the ducti. Cooler's green eyes narrowed as he glared at Jericho.   
"That plan would appear to be very foolish," snapped out Charles Payne, "If we were to do so what would protect us from any hidden ghouls that emerged during the day?" Michael nodded approval at Payne's comments. "Also," Payne continued, "There are still some elders within the city that could cause problems if we tried to deal with them simultaneously." Jericho frowned as Payne continued, "That is why we have arranged to send in a pack to destroy one of the city's elders, thus weakening it for an attack later." Many ducti nodded at the wisdom of these words. Jericho simply leaned back in his seat, conceding the point.   
"That is why I have called you here tonight," Cooler said, "For I recently uncovered a scout who is willing to tell us the location of the Brujah elder Jaynie," He waved his hand as the Caitiff scout Howard slowly walked out of the crowd. "I would like to thank this noble servant to our cause for all the dangers he has faced to bring us this information," Howard pulled out a few pieces of paper from his torn jacket and placed them upon the table. Even Cal Jericho leaned in to see them clearly. Cooler smiled to himself as all eyes turned to him for the next step in his plan.   
"I'll drop the bitch if at least one pack's willing to go in and back me up," declared Jericho.   
"Now hold on templar," growled Cooler, "I have already devised a plan!"   
"I'm sure you have, but this Brujah dope is hardly covering her ass well enough to be any problem, all I need is some guys to back me up and claim some of the glory for ripping her damn head, off its damn shoulders!"   
The ducti roared as Jericho leaped on the table as he gave his speech. Quickly he outlined his battle plan, all the while pacing upon the table and demanding total attention. The ducti ate it up and almost all of them volunteered their pack for the mission. Cooler sat in his chair, seething with rage at seeing his moment of glory being snapped up by Jericho. Glancing across the room he saw the perfect implement for revenge.   
"Ah Jericho, it is good to see you so eager for battle, yet I worry that you are perhaps being a bit overconfident in your abilities." Jericho spun around to look at Cooler, who still sat in his chair with a smile on his face. "I think your plan is a good one, but, I also think you should take some extra back-up." Jericho was now staring directly at Cooler, distrustful of his every move. "Therefore I suggest you are accompanied by" Cooler's hand started a slow pan of the room Jericho spun to glance around eager to find out what soon to be dead fool Cooler was about to shove on him. "Anne Arbor, our own Black Hand agent and master assassin," Cooler finished with a barely surpressed chuckle.   
Jericho's eyes narrowed in anger, while Anne's lifted slightly in surprise. Anne glanced at Cooler and realized there was no way he would be talked out of this course of action, she gazed up at Jericho who stood outlined against the lamplight and sighed. 

Present 

Jericho stood a top one of the walkways that comprised The Bloodrun, the site of his battle with a large batch of Camarilla ambushers, he loved to bring any raiding party he lead through this area, just to remind them of who he was and what he could do. He whipped his head back to shake some of the heavy rain off of his shades, then spun around and dropped softly twenty feet to the ground. Lurking in the alley were the eight members of The Rat Removers, and the silent dark figure of Anne. Jericho glanced at each of the Rat Removers. They dressed in black leather and were carrying an assortment of shotguns, automatic pistols, and sub machine guns. He then glanced over at Anne, who had been keeping her eyes on the street (she seemed damn nervous to be in Camarilla turf for a supposed Black Hand badass, at least in Cal's opinion) He eyed the heavy black trenchcoat she wore, it concealed her lithe leather clad body, and he suspected at least half a dozen weapons. Her long black hair was now plastered to her pale skin, and he suddenly caught himself eyeing the graceful curve of her neck. He shook himself out of his daze in time to realize she was staring back at him, he quickly turned away from her and began to issue his usual marching orders. Keep together, if separated meet here, don't let yourself frenzy during the fight, and don't ever cross one of his orders. Finally Jericho felt that his men were ready, he motioned them to follow him, and set off into the soaking heart of Detroit. 

Howard sat in the limo and watched as Grand Circus Park rolled by outside the window. He suddenly jumped as Danae took a sudden sharp turn into a wall of ivy. Damn! If that didn't always make him think he was about to hit the wall. But sure enough the driveway of the old mansion was right there. Danae smoothly stopped the limo before the front doors, and quickly hopped out with an umbrella and opened Howard's door for him.   
"Thanks sweet thing," he chuckled, amused as always by the level of treatment he received here. And why shouldn't he? After all he was a highly skilled spy, as good at Obfuscate as any stinking Nossie, and unlike them he knew how to keep his mouth shut about deals like this one. He followed Danae into a large sitting room, on one side there burnt a massive fire in the fireplace, on the other were huge bay windows looking out on a large well tended garden. The far end of the room held a massive grand staircase that flowed down into the room like the tongue of some great beast. The only light was from the fire, and the windows. Danae motioned him to sit in an ornate chair facing the stairway.   
"Fuck, I know it ain't my business, but can't your boss buy some fucking electrical lights, y'know cheer the place up?" Howard asked as he sat in the chair with a wet squelch, staining the old velvet cushions. He glanced up at Danae, but she didn't answer. "Well fuck you then, I guess I'll just chat with the walls or something." Howard tilted his chair back with a creek as he rested, waiting for the appearance of the rest of his payment. 

The Pulse was really starting to rock tonight! DJ Scream stopped one record, and as he went to slam in another the entire club seemed to fill and fade with purple light, the "pulse" that gave it its name. Jaynie sat easily in a rear booth watching the flow of action on the dance floor as a song by The Cure started to blare over the massive speakers set in the walls. She watched Vince, one of the younger Brujah, strip off his shirt as he writhed between two pretty young things, someone would be eating good tonight she mused. Jaynie smiled as a shadow fell across the table. She pushed her blonde hair out of her face as she glanced up at the two figures. Doc and La Belle, the chief anarchs of Detroit. Doc was wearing his usual somber black suit, and that outlandish cowboy Stetson he insisted on wearing. A clove cigar was in his mouth, and he was currently shuffling a deck of cards. La Belle, whose full name was La Belle Dame Sans Moris', but Jaynie never bothered with that particular tongue twister. La Belle was dressed like a scummy kid, as usual, and the bottom half of her plaid shirt was wide open, revealing her taunt belly as well as part of the angel tattoo that graced it. (Jaynie often wondered where La Belle had chosen to fit the angel's lower half)   
"Bonsoir Madame Jaynie," Belle greeted.  
"Good to see you could make it," Jaynie laughed as she slid back to make room for the pair. "Merci," La Belle said as she slid in as well, Doc merely shifted his back to a wall so he could watch the exits (Jaynie noted it also put him behind her). "I do try to make it simple for my beloved clan to contact me."   
Jaynie nodded at the soft spoken French-Canadian's words. "To get straight to the point Belle, I thought you may have wanted to know that Steven is becoming very annoyed at the anarchs actions of late sinc"   
"That is very bon," La Belle cut in "Perhaps now the prince will not be so déraisonable the next time we make demands, he can not expect us to die on the streets for him while he"   
"Yes," Jaynie interrupted, "I know you think he's just using you for cannon fodder, maybe he is, but he thinks you are useful fodder at the moment. If he even once decided you were more trouble then you were worth he would order Octavian to run you all out of town, or maybe just use you to dust a sunrise."   
"Ahh, I see you are concerned over mis amiees, but I do not think you realize how much trouble we go through every night." La Belle countered.   
Jaynie sighed inwardly, this was going to be a rough conversation. 

Howard was checking out Danae's ass when a rumble of thunder jerked him back to the staircase. Standing at the top of the stairs was a tall pale figure. His long black silk robe billowed about him, blown by the wind from the suddenly open windows. His white hair whipped about his face as he seemed to glide down the stairs towards Howard. Howard gulped slightly, his throat having gone dry.   
"Uh, hey Doshaine, how's it hanging?"   
The ghostlike figure was lit on one side by the flaring orange warmth of the fire, and by the cold night sky and lightning on the other. His milky orbs slowly descended to gaze upon Howard. Howard squirmed slightly.   
"It is done." A, statement not a question.   
"Yeah, no problem," Howard replied. "And Reginald?" "He bought it, just like you said." Howard relaxed when Doshaine finally allowed a tiny smile on his inhuman face. "Yep, those Ventrue pukes will snap up anything you make them have to pay for," Howard patted the suitcase, "And Cooler didn't pay too bad neither," he patted his vest pocket. "So, I guess I better collect my payment from you, and then get the hell outta town, right?"   
"You are sure no one else saw you?"   
Doshaine quietly asked as he moved towards the windows. This relaxed Howard for it meant more of Doshaine's face that was visible to him had the warm light of the fire on it.   
"Are you kidding? Why do you think I charge what I do?"   
"And the Sheriff, Octavian, did you avoid his eyes?" Doshaine pressed.   
"Fuck the Sheriff, he couldn't find me if I tied a ribbon on his finger and shoved the other end up my ass."   
"What about the prince, you of course presented yourself."   
"What am I? Some Camarilla bitch, naw the prince can go fuck himself," Howard laughed. "Course I better get going, you do have the rest of my payment, right?"   
A black blur spun across the room, and before Danae could blink Doshaine stood behind Howard with his clawed hand protruding from the Caitiff's chest.   
"He had ruined the chair already," Doshaine murmured as he drew his hand out, he then sank down and plunged his fangs into Howard's neck. Danae jumped as Doshaine spun back around towards her, lightning crashed outside, revealing his white lips to now be stained crimson. He grinned at her, "clean up this mess then come join me in the garden."   
His cloak billowing around him, Doshaine stepped into the pouring rain. The pounding water began to cleanse the stain from his lips as he looked skyward. And smiled. 

La Belle finally held up her hands towards Jaynie and Doc, "Mercy, mercy," she said shaking her arms back and forth.   
"Are you conceding the argument, or thanking me?" asked Jaynie, "with all the French I can never tell."  
"Perhaps I do a little of both," Belle said, "In any case I shall try to reign in some of our more, how you say, rambunctious members." Jaynie nodded at her, thankful that Belle was an intelligent as well as violent leader.   
"Hey babes, what's going down?" Came a loud voice from across the club.   
All three Brujah turned to spot Francis and Evelynn approaching them. Francis was Brujah, and wore black leather, had his hair spiked and dyed purple, and wore a pair of funky little red glasses. Evelynn was a Toreador who sympathized with the Brujah. She was dressed in grunge clothing, and had her blonde dred-locks dyed green and yellow tonight.   
"Lookit me, I gotta babe you see," said Francis as he spun Evelynn around. She laughed and punched him playfully. Doc rolled his eyes slightly, while Jaynie and Belle grinned.   
"Good to see you are in good spirits tonight Francios," said Belle, "could you maybe get the word out I want to meet the rest of the guys down in the usual spot at two?"   
Francis rolled his head back. "I can't believe this shit, I get together with my main squeeze for one flippin' night and now I gotta play messenger boy."   
"Don't worry Francis, I'll come with ya," whispered Evelynn in his ear. She ran her hand across his chest suggestively. Francis waggled his eyebrows.   
"Well on that note, no problem. Oh and it's Francis not Francois, I don't need no damn gay rep following me around!"   
Francis turned and made his way back through the crowd. As Jaynie watched him go she spotted Apollo, one of the ghouls of the Toreador elder Doshaine enter the club. Apollo looked around till he spotted Jaynie, and then made straight for her. She frowned, this could only mean trouble. 

Reginald was feeling on top of the world. He now commanded a large force of ghouls as he gave them a stirring speech about their mission tonight. It had taken some favors being called in to arm them all, but once he took out a Sabbat raid lead by Cal Jericho he would be rocketed up in position in the prince's court. He finished his pre-battle speech (and he felt it properly stirred the men) and then motioned them to the waiting vans. Tonight he would make a name for himself! 

Jaynie sat across the table from Apollo, the handsome young man appearing quite at ease despite the fact Jaynie had just threatened him.   
"You mean to tell me I'll owe your boss a favor, but in return he promises to save my life?"   
"Very well put," replied Apollo, "I just must ask you to sign these forms here, and initial here, here, and here."   
Jaynie quickly read over the papers, and realized the simple contract did exactly what Apollo said it did. Promise to save her life in return for favors to be called at a later date.   
"All right, gimme the pen," she said reaching towards him. She looked up in surprise when he dropped a small knife into her palm.   
"My master believes any important documentation should be signed in something more important then mere ink." Apollo said as way of explanation. Jaynie smirked and quickly poked the knife into the palm of her hand, she the signed the papers with the tip and looked back up at Apollo. He smiled at her, "On your walk back to your haven you pass through an alley between a Kwik-Mart and a drugstore, do you know it?" Jaynie nodded. "A Ventrue called Reginald will be waiting there with many armed ghouls, he plans to execute you in order to weaken the Brujah of the city." Jaynie paused thinking, Reginaldoh yes the punk neonate who thought he was better then everyone else. She nodded to Apollo,   
"Give your master my thanks, but I have some business to take care of now." She stormed back towards the other Brujah in the club, "Hey guys, who wants to go kick some Ventrue ass!"   
Apollo pulled out a cell-phone and pressed a speed dial button. "Phase two complete," he hung up and quickly left the club. 

Danae stood under her umbrella as the rain beat off of it, Doshaine was standing motionless in the middle of a tile mosaic of Christ and the crucifixion. Doshaine had stretched his arms out and struck a pose identical to that of Jesus.   
"Master," Danae said softly, "Master, Apollo reports success."   
Doshaine slowly lowered his arms, his silk robes now sticking to his thin form. He turned towards her and his eyes met hers for an instant. Danae nearly collapsed from the brief connection to her master.   
"What," she gasped, her heart beating, "what should I do now?"   
Doshaine turned back to stare up into the storm. "Now?" he whispered, "Now we wait."   
He closed his eyes as Danae fell silent, Doshaine urged his soul to fly, and soon he was rising out of his body, the better to control events, in a flash he flew across the city towards the ambush site. 

"Get your fucking ass outta my face," Hissed Jericho as he slipped towards the edge of the barber shop roof. Anne turned towards him, her green almond shaped eyes fiery with rage. Jericho smirked at her, "hey don't get so pissed, I didn't say it wasn't a nice ass," so saying he slapped it and moved forward to get a better look.   
The Rats all chuckled and went back to waiting. Anne slid silently back and stared at Jericho's exposed neck, she gripped the hilt of her blade, but willed herself to stop. She wasn't about to let Jericho force her to lose her composure, she contented herself with picturing all the things she would like to do to his face. Jericho suddenly tensed as he spotted two figures moving into the alley. One with spiked purple hair and little red glasses, the other with multi-colored dreds.   
"If those two ain't Brujah, I'm a fucking lupine," said one of the Rats as he slowly raised his TEC-9. Jericho quickly raised his hand to stop him, and gazed down at the aura's of the two figures. Pale, they were Kindred all right.   
"I can't believe that she only has one guard," scoffed Jericho, "hang on, I'm gonna try to take them alive!" So saying he leapt over the edge of the roof to splash down in a large puddle. "Freeze, you Camarilla grab-asses." He ordered as he slowly stood to his full height.   
"Who the fuck are you?" Demanded purple spikes. Colored dreds slowly slipped back behind him.   
Jericho smiled and started to speak when a black form dropped silently behind the girl. Anne quickly hooked her in a throat lock that smeared some blood across her neck. The girl hissed in surprise, but was suddenly drooping as though she had no strength left in her.   
"Fucking bitch!" bellowed purple spikes as he swung around, whipping out a Glock as he did.   
In a blur Anne snapped up one leg and kicked the pistol from his grasp, she also whipped out her hands, two steel bars slid from her coat sleeves into them. She swept them in, crosswise, to connect at his left knee. Purple spikes grunted in pain as his knee crumpled, Anne spun behind him and lashed out another kick to the side of his head. The blow sent purple spikes rolling against a nearby wall, dazed and confused. Jericho blinked in surprise as Anne swept up the fallen gun, the rods were apparently built into her gloves as they slid back into place. Anne had the gun trained on purple spikes head even as he regained his senses.   
"Fuck me," he muttered as he slowly raised his hands.   
Jericho stormed in towards Anne. "What the hell is this bullshit! I said I'd capture them!"   
Anne kept her eyes on the downed Brujah, "Oh, I'm sorry, it looked like you were taking so long that I figured you were sick or something."   
"Real funny," growled Jericho, "almost as funny as you trying to act tough to me." He stalked up till he towered directly over her smaller form. "Do you know how quickly I could crush you, if I ever wanted to." He asked in a deep throated growl.   
Anne glanced briefly at him but kept her attention on the Brujah, "Why don't you relax Jericho, after all I out rank you even though I was kind enough to follow your lead for most of the mission."   
"Most of the mission?" he said in shock, "bitch, your stuck-up ass waited till the best part before dropping in and ruining things!"   
Anne gritted her teeth as she kept the gun trained on purple spike's head, "Get a grip, just because you need to grand stand doesn't mean that you attacking alone was the best way."   
"Oh, and you attacking alone was?"   
"I had surprise on my side,"   
"I had it under control,"   
"You need to get your ego under control,"   
"Fuck you and the dumb shit who embraced you!" hissed Jericho.   
Anne scowled and spun towards him, shoving the pistol into his face. Jericho quickly grabbed her hand and twisted the gun from her grasp, his other hand snapping around her throat and effortlessly picking her off the ground. "You gonna say something, Black Hand bitch?" he asked smirking. Then he felt the point of a knife prodding into his belly, he glanced down to see her other hand holding a slim knife, darkened with blood, against his stomach. She smirked back at him. Meanwhile Francis had been pushing healing blood into his knee, and now he saw his chance, he pumped as much blood as he could into increasing his speed, and with a yell leaped forward snatching Evelynn off the ground and dashing for the alley exit. Jericho dropped Anne and started to give chase, a bola whizzed past him and entangled the feet of the fleeing Brujah. Jericho quickly leapt forward and slammed his knee into purple spike's back, sending him crashing to the ground. Jericho then whipped out his blade and placed it on the Brujah's neck.   
"Now stay still if you know what's good for you," He glanced up towards the other Sabbat as they jumped off the rooftops to join him and Anne. Anne walked up and deftly retrieved her bola. "You know," Jericho smirked, "If you could drag that stick out of your butt, I might even enjoy having you come on raids with me."   
Anne looked up at him, "Strange, I was just thinking that if you ever calmed down and learned to respect authority, you might make a decent leader, instead of just a jerk whose good with a sword." She shot back, as she tucked the bola into one of her coat's pockets.   
Jericho frowned at her as he dragged purple spikes to his feet. "Fine, we know she's Jaynie, now who're you?" he asked.   
Francis shook his head in surprise. "My name's Francis, but that's Evelynn, not Jaynie, boy did you guys jump the wrong people! Hell she's not even Brujah!"   
He chuckled at the Sabbat's stupidity. Jericho's eyes narrowed in rage, "That fuck Cooler set us up!" he growled.   
Anne frowned, "Or we just struck too early, after all whose to say other Kindred might not walk down this alley. All we do is reset the ambush and wait again, you can claim these as bonus kills."   
"Kills!?" said Francis, "I thought you wanted us alive!"   
"Wrong dipshit," snarled Jericho, "we want Jaynie alive, you two are just in the wrong place at the wrong time."   
As Jericho raised his blade the alley was suddenly filled with the ring of bullets, Anne staggered as a shotgun blast hit her in the back, and two of the Rats were engulfed by thrown maltovs. Jericho threw aside Francis and spun to look at the rooftops, at least a dozen of them, maybe more! Jericho quickly raised his arms, and his shadow seemed to surge forth, becoming three-dimensional as it began to fill the alley. 

Reginald cursed, "Aim for the fucking Lasombra!" he ordered.   
The ghouls just kept firing and throwing maltovs, after all they couldn't see anything through the thick dark cloud. A few shots were being fired back, but only one ghoul had even been hit, and not badly. Reginald smiled as he reloaded his shotgun and let out a few more bursts into the alley. 

Jericho flattened himself against a wall as shotgun blasts slammed about him. He almost felt sorry for the Rats, as he watched them stagger around in the dark, but if they hadn't bothered to memorize the layoutwell tough shit.   
"Jericho!" He glanced around to see Anne getting to her feet, apparently she had quite a few pieces of armor under that coat. "Jericho, you could raise the cloud up so the rest of us could see!"   
Jericho nodded, he hadn't thought of that, however the possibility before him was too good to pass up. He raised his sword, this would teach Cooler not to send any more spies out with him. He started to make his way towards Anne who was waving her arms about as she blindly struggled down the alley. 

Anne heard Jericho approach, she had expected as much since he hadn't moved his cloud after her shout. She continued to act helpless in the total darkness, but kept one hand close to her blade. She heard the swish of Jericho's sword, and deftly whipped out her own to deflect it, she countered but Jericho danced back. Damn, this just got a lot tougher she thought to herself. 

Damn this just got tougher Jericho thought as Anne came within centimeters of slashing him with her return attack. Luckily for him he had seen her tense just moments before he swung, and had known to be ready to get out of the way. She now stood with her back to a wall and her eyes scanning the dark. Jericho cursed the fact that she was better trained then he had thought. He quickly rushed in and let out a brief flurry of blows, Anne blocked most but was cut severely across the belly by the last one. He grinned, until she lashed out her free hand and sent a knife into his chest. The fucking thing burned like the blazes, so he quickly tore it out and threw it back, it thudded into her leg. She gasped in pain and dropped to one knee. 

Anne wiped some of her dripping hair out of her face as she listened to Jericho's movements. She cursed the constant gunfire and pounding raindrops, they were making this much more dangerous a game. She had to find a way to even the odds 

Jericho's eyes widened as Anne seemed to fade from view, damn! He swung his blade before him and backtracked quickly. Fucking Black Hand bullshit stealth tricks! Jericho cursed himself for not using some of his other shadow powers to finish her off quicker. Realizing this round was a draw he yelled for a retreat and dashed out of the alley. The surviving Rats quickly followed. 

Anne limped slowly along, she reached a main street and quickly hailed a cab. As she collapsed into it and ordered the driver to take her back to Windsor, she swore that Jericho would regret tonight's activities for a long, long time. 

Reginald and his ghouls proudly stood within the alley. Five Sabbat lay in bloody, burnt piles. Reginald cursed the fact that Jericho had escaped, but he could probably use his rescue of Evelynn and Francis as a way to lever favors from them or their sires. Well worth the money he had paid that filthy informant. Reginald looked around, strange he seemed to recall the Sabbat had planned to attack Jaynie. Shrugging he walked over to Francis and poked him with his shotgun.   
"Whas goin" Francis peered up dully at Reginald.   
Reginald smiled, time to make the brute promise him a boon.   
"Hey Reggie, did you happen to jump the wrong Brujah!"   
Reginald spun around to see Jaynie and a small collection of Brujah thugs. Why would she think he was here to ambush Brujah? Reginald suddenly gasped as he saw a spectral figure standing behind Jaynie, Doshaine. His black robes fluttered and blew in a breeze that couldn't be blowing in the alley. With a start Reginald realized it was merely a projection of Doshaine, but that would mean that the reason Jaynie thought Reginald's eyes widened as he saw the tricks Doshaine had played, he quickly raised his head to explain to Jaynie and suddenly found his gaze locked with Doshaine's   
To his horror Reginald found himself speaking, "Damn straight I did, but now that the main course has appeared I guess I'll still get to kill you! For the Ventrue! Attack!!!" Reginald was suddenly in control of his mind once again as his ghouls quickly raised their near empty weapons.   
"Pal, you must have a death wish," chuckled Doc as two nickel plated pistols seemed to snap into his hands, he quickly began cutting down ghouls.   
La Belle howled in glee as she whipped out her own guns and began blasting away. The other two Brujah happily leaped to the assault. Jaynie shook her head in awe at the foolishness of the Ventrue. Francis slowly stood, only to see a spectral figure appear before him. A few seconds later he recalled how the Ventrue had ambushed him and Evelynn. He growled as he pulled out his knife and leapt at the Ventrue dick. The battle was over in moments. Francis had slashed the hell out of the Ventrue, Doc finished him off by picking up Reginald's own shotgun and emptying both barrels into his face.   
"Tis seems strange, why would he pick a fight when his men had wasted so much ammunition," asked Belle.   
Doc shrugged, "Sometimes when their dander's up, people don't think things through clearly."   
Jaynie nodded, "In any case let's clean up this mess, I'd rather not have Octavian realize we did this," The Brujah nodded and quickly went about clearing the area. 

Danae watched as her master finally lowered his arms, he had been standing motionless for the last twenty minutes. Doshaine turned back towards her and smiled, "It is finished." 


End file.
